Underneath the Monster
by healingwater
Summary: Sequel to The Monster Underneath, please read that first! Bobby, Dean, and Sam are left to deal with the repercussions of Sam's actions. How will things turn out for the boys; in revenge or forgiveness? Warning: Refers to rape. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes**: This is a sequel to _The Monster Underneath. _If you haven't read that one, I suggest you go there first or this won't make a whole lot of sense! Some of you all pointed out in reviews that it needed a follow-up, and the thought just wouldn't leave me alone! Hope this satisfies!

**Disclaimers**: Sadly, I don't own Supernatural, I just use the boys for my own sick and twisted amusement.

_**Underneath the Monster**_

Heavy breathes and whimpers filled the small, dark space. Sam gagged as the sounds mingled and echoed in the metal room. _What have I done?_ He was terrified and bile continued to crawl up his throat. _Oh fuck. They'll kill me._ His breathing increased until he was on the brink of hyperventilation.

He had given in to the madness of his demon blood and Ruby's teachings, and he had committed the most unspeakable act. _Dean. Oh God, Dean_. He'd attacked his wounded brother, forced what he had secretly desired from him for several years. _I raped my own brother._ _And now I'm covered in his blood_. The sweet tang of blood assaulted his nose; the thick substance was everywhere: his hands, under his nails, his stomach, thighs, groin, smeared across the lower half of his face, dribbled down his neck, on his tongue.

Bile burned higher up his throat, but refused to cleanse his beloved brother's taste from his mouth. _I deserve to be punished. He'll never forgive me. He shouldn't ever forgive me_. Sam had seen the horror on Bobby's face when he entered the room the brothers shared. The memory of Dean's sobs filled his ears, mixing with his own as he sat huddled beneath an old metal desk. He felt so weak and disgusting. _Didn't even have the balls to leave_. The haze clouding his mind had receded halfway down the stairs and shock had led him down the basement steps and into the panic room hidden in the darkness of Bobby's basement.

Sam sat curled tightly around his own naked and blood-covered body, hiding from his memories and his family. He wanted to rush back up the stairs and pray that it was all just a horrible dream or that his brother and surrogate father would forgive him for his crime. He believed that neither was likely to happen.

Bobby frowned down at the elder of the two Winchester brothers, unsure of what his next move should be. Dean's sobs had faded into whimpers and choked sighs as he struggled to draw breath. The most obvious choice was to take the boy to the hospital; Bobby was doubtful about treating the wounds to his throat. He wasn't sure about the amount or type of damage done; only that Dean couldn't breathe.

The only reason that he was still sitting on the bed was because taking him to the hospital meant that they would see his other wounds; there would be no glossing over the gaping hole in his stomach or the finger-shaped bruises, and definitely not the blood smeared on his thighs. Bobby reached over and picked up a limp hand, squeezing it tightly. It worried him that Dean hadn't once asked him about Sam; not a single question about where he was or if he was hurt. In fact, now that he thought about it, Dean hadn't said anything, hadn't even tried to protest at Bobby's manhandling to check the damage Sam's attack had done.

_Dammit, Sam! Why didn't you just talk to us? God only knows what you did to your own melon, but you've broken your brother, too!_ The older hunter couldn't help but think that if Sam had mentioned that he was craving blood that they could have taken precautions and avoided the mess they were currently swimming in. Bobby was jerked from his thoughts when Dean's hand went lax in his own. Curses spewed from the older man's mouth as he realized the boy had stopped breathing, his lips tinged blue and half-lidded green eyes stared vacantly. "Balls," Bobby groaned, shaking the shoulder nearest to him. Receiving no response, he made a snap decision. Dean gasped in a shallow breath and let out a thin whine as Bobby wrapped him in the bloody sheet. "Sorry, boy, but you need help. I'll do everything I can to protect you both, but I'm not gonna let you die, not on my watch!"

Bobby grunted as he struggled to get Dean upright and down the stairs. The journey to the truck took forever, or at least it seemed that way to Bobby, who had half dragged, half carried the younger hunter. Dean's breathing continued to wheeze in and out, but the time between breathes was becoming more terrifying to Bobby. The boy in his arms was his son; he had felt he'd been a better father to Dean than John ever had. _Look where your coddling has us now, John. You babied Sam and Dean's the one who continues to get hurt. Damn you, Winchester!_

Bobby managed to fling the passenger side door of the truck open without losing his grip on Dean. He levered the young man onto the seat, slammed the door, and practically slid across the hood to the driver's side. Under any other circumstances, he would have laughed like hell. As he clamored into the truck, Dean began to list to the side, still gasping for air. Bobby watched with an almost disconnected interest as the boy's body slowly tipped until he was lying across the bench seat with his head resting on Bobby's thigh. The older hunter smiled sadly at Dean's one hand clinging to the sheet he was wrapped in while the other curled into Bobby's pant leg. "You just hold on, kiddo. I'll make sure you're safe, okay?"

He gently petted the boy's blonde hair, trying to assure him that everything would be alright. Dean's eyes slipped closed, breathing rapid and shallow. Bobby sat still for a few more minutes, simply watching the younger hunter until he felt warmth on his jeans, just below Dean's face. The older man scowled at the spreading stain of blood. "Balls!" he snarled as he started his old truck and slammed it into gear, the spinning tires flinging gravel in all directions.

Sam's head jerked up at the loud noises coming from above him. He heard Bobby's gravelly voice cursing, accompanied by several dull thuds_. Sounds like he's dragging something. Or someone._ He sniffled as he imagined the older hunter dragging his brother's body down the steps. His eyes widened as he heard the front door bang open and then closed again, followed by more cursing and car doors slamming. The old truck roared to life and gravel pinged off the side of the house as tires spun.

_Where's he going? Is he taking him to the hospital?_ Sam felt some relief that his brother was alive; however, he knew that Bobby wouldn't take Dean to the hospital unless he was hurt badly or if Bobby couldn't manage the wounds on his own. _Think, Sam. What did you do that could have spooked Bobby into going to the hospital?_ His mind reeled as he was swept back into the sensations of what had happened between him and Dean only hours earlier.

_It was just sex. Nothing could have been hospital-worthy._ Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. That was wrong; he knew it hadn't been "just sex". He had raped his brother and he had been vicious about it. _That's why I'm covered in blood._ He felt the crusted crimson pull around his mouth and was suddenly overwhelmed by the coppery tang. _I bit him. I practically ripped his throat out._

The youngest Winchester remembered the feel of his teeth sinking in his brother's flesh, then pushing harder and deeper into muscle and tendons, and he couldn't help but shudder at the memory of Dean's screams. _Bobby wouldn't want to mess with a wound to the neck. He'd get help._

Sam began to cry again as he realized the amount of physical damage he'd done to his brother. Not only had he violated him, but he'd crushed his windpipe and ripped the fresh stitches from a stomach wound. _Jesus Christ! What the hell was I thinking? That doing that to him was alright? That he would want that? _Sitting naked and shivering in the dark, Sam Winchester continued to destroy any self-worth he had retained and somewhere in hell, laughter carried on the darkness.

_**To be continued...**_

_**Please be kind, review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters; I only play with them to amuse myself and those who enjoy the story.**

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry that I left you all hanging for so long with this story! My brain just wouldn't go anywhere with it, so I left it alone. Hopefully, this will not disappoint! Don't read if you are sensitive to the subject of rape, craziness, or are too young to be reading this! Reviews are appreciated as they encourage me to write faster! Enjoy!

Bobby was pretty sure that he'd broken every speed limit between his salvage yard and the county hospital. Dean continued to draw in shuddering breaths and release occasional whimpers, his fingers becoming more lax in their hold on the sheet and Bobby's pants. He was horrified at the tears that continued to fall down pale cheeks and the blood that dripped from the boys lips and spread from his throat.

The battered old truck flew into the emergency lane of the hospital, tires screeching to a halt. Bobby catapulted from the truck, screaming for help. Without waiting to see if he was heard, he began to slide Dean's limp body from the bench seat. He hefted the young man into his arms and ran for the doors to the ER, leaving the truck door wide open. "Help me! Somebody help my son!" he shouted.

They were swarmed by doctors and nurses, and just as suddenly as they came, they were gone, taking Dean with them. A nurse was helping Bobby to a chair, a clipboard of paperwork in her hands. "Sir, if you'll just fill those out, we can get things moving for your son," she spoke softly. The older man nodded and began to complete the standard paperwork with shaking hands. He took the finished papers to the receptionist, unaware of anything other than his fear for Dean.

The nurse at the desk took the clipboard, sympathy clear on her face as she glanced from Bobby to the bloody papers. She disappeared through an office door and returned with blue material bunched in her hands. "Why don't you go wash up and change your clothes, Mr. Singer? I'll keep an ear out for anything about your son while you clean up," she offered, pushing the bundle into his shaking hands. Bobby simply nodded and staggered towards the restroom. He stared at his reflection, taken aback at the sight of himself. His face was pale, his blue eyes wide and panicked. His flannel shirt was buttoned up wrong and smeared with blood and he'd forgotten his ball cap. _This would be funny if it was anyone else_ he thought as he washed Dean's blood from his hands. He quickly changed into the scrubs the nurse had given him, put his bloody clothes in a garbage bag, and then headed back out to check for news on Dean.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

It had been silent in the house for almost two hours. Or at least, that was by Sam's best calculations. He was frustrated and overwhelmed with the sheer amount of emotions that he had experienced as a result of his earlier actions. Part of him was angry for giving in to his desires while another part felt shame at listening to what a demon had taught him.

One thing was for sure, Sam knew himself, and he knew that neither demon blood nor Ruby had anything to do with what happened with Dean, no matter how much he wanted to put the blame on anything or anyone other than himself. He had wanted it, pure and simple. He could admit to himself that he had looked at his brother in a very non-brotherly way for several years. He assumed Dean had similar feeling towards him since they were so finely in tune with one another, and Sam had never considered that Dean only saw him as a pain in the ass little brother.

Another side of him argued that Dean had not reacted favorably because he had been badly injured and Sam had exploited that weakness. A part of him wanted to track down Bobby and his brother and talk about what had happened and hope that Dean wanted that kind of relationship with him. Sam knew that even if Dean was unsure of his feelings, or was caught in the "it's wrong" argument of why they shouldn't sleep together, he knew for a fact he could manipulate his brother into at least trying to have a relationship.

Bobby, on the other hand, had looked at Sam with absolute disgust on his face. Again, the logical side of Sam rationalized that, of course Bobby would be upset, they had made a huge mess out of his spare room, not to mention Sam had ruined the stiches the older hunter had painstakingly put into Dean's stomach. That was all, everything would be fine. A small part of Sam's mind realized that his thoughts made no sense and he was terrified. _I'm going crazy_. _Nothing will ever be fine again_.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Bobby had been waiting for what felt like hours. Looking for any kind of distraction, he'd indulged himself in strong hospital coffee and was currently debating with himself if coffee could be stale. His tactic for distraction worked so well that he practically jumped out of his chair when the nurse touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Singer, I didn't mean to startle you," she said softly. Bobby blinked tired blue eyes up at her, then gathered his wits enough for a reply. "No, it's okay. Any news on my boy?" She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you want go up and see him?" He was on his feet in an instant, the tiredness wiped off his face. The nurse took his actions as a yes and began to lead him towards an elevator that led to the ICU.

Bobby could admit to himself that he was worried; she hadn't said Dean was fine, just asked if he wanted to see him. Fear began to curl the older man's stomach and his face scrunched up at the thought that this could be the last time he saw his boy. The nurse noticed his sudden rigid posture and sour face. She offered him yet another smile as she patted his arm. "He's going to be okay." Bobby felt the agonizing need to beg her for a promise that that was true. Instead, he gave a gruff grunt of acknowledgement and nodded. Her smile only widened as she continued rubbing his arm.

The elevator doors parted and she pulled him into the quiet hallway. Bobby was always uneasy with how quiet and still the ICU wards were. He was led down a short hallway to a room where the blinds where closed over the glass and it was fairly dark in the room. _Was it night already?_ He could hear the beeps and whirs of machines and the whoosh of the ventilator from the doorway. The nurse prodded him in the back gently. "Go on, the doctor will be here to talk with you in just a few minutes. I thought you might want to see him first." Bobby again nodded his gratitude towards her.

He stepped into the room in a complete daze. Dean lay pale against the sheets, the ventilator pushing air for him. Bobby crept closer to the bed, almost fearful of waking the young man up, even though he knew that wasn't possible. He was sure Dean was sedated. He gently picked up a limp hand, first examining the bruises that wrapped around his wrist, then the hospital band that stood out stark white against the purple skin. _Dean Singer. God, I wish I could have spared both of these boys from this life. And maybe we'd be going fishing or something instead of this._ He stared at the band for a few more minutes, thoughts of Sam and Dean being normal young men, his boys to have brought up differently. He was still angry with John for raising his sons as hunters, but knew that if he had let them be normal they would never have graced Bobby's life. _Guess the bastard did do me a favor_.

He returned his eyes to the boy in front of him. Dean's left wrist had matching bruises to the right, and he noticed the same mottled purple creeping from his right shoulder to his throat. The hospital gown covered whatever injuries littered his chest and stomach, but Bobby's eyes were drawn to the mass of white bandages that covered the left side of Dean's neck, from his chin to his shoulder. His face sported a single bruise on the right side, and four smaller bruises on the left. After a moment of staring, Bobby recognized the marks for what they were: Sam's hand.

He was jerked from his musings by a short knock on the glass and someone clearing their throat. He turned to meet the dark eyes of a middle-aged woman in a white coat. She nodded to him. "I'm Dr. Bourke, Mr. Singer. I am the treating physician for your son. We need to talk about what happened to him," her voice was strong and confident, but not overwhelming. _She reminds me of Ellen_. Bobby squeezed Dean's hand before reluctantly following her out of the room and down the hall to her office.

**_TBC…. Please review! _ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I still don't own Supernatural, just playing with the boys for my own entertainment.

**Author's Note**: My apologies for not responding personally to the reviews that have kindly been left. I wasn't sure if this story was worth finishing, but the few awesome individuals that did review gave me motivation to continue. I know this is short, but I wanted to give you all something to let you know I haven't forgotten or forsaken this story. Real life has just been a major pain in the rump lately. Enjoy!

Rain pelted against the window and Bobby looked up to see the trees bending to the wind's whim. The sky was grey and dark clouds hung low, seeming to smother out any light as it was already late morning. The older man had lost track of time upon reaching the hospital. _Have we been here days, or has it been only hours?_ He looked to Dean in the bed, bruises and white dressings blinding, the doctor's words still ringing in his ears_. It's only been a few long hours_ he thought. The doctor had told him that due to the nature of Dean's wounds and the trauma he was sure to have endured that he would remain under heavy sedation for the time being. Dr. Bourke had looked frustrated by Bobby's inability to name Dean's attacker or what had happened. His fingers tightened around Dean's limp ones, angry with the situation. It wasn't like he could just say, "His brother jumped him, could have been the demon blood, you know?" Bobby really wasn't sure himself what had happened, only that Sam had looked possessed and that Dean was bleeding out. Dr. Bourke insisted that Bobby go home and "get some rest" and he had finally agreed simply so she would stop pestering him. He continued holding onto Dean's clammy hand, reluctant to leave his boy alone. He had checked Dean into the hospital under the insurance that he had kept both boys under since they were little. It felt wrong to leave_. I'm not John Winchester_. On the other hand, he knew that he needed to return home to tend to Sam. _I won't forsake either of my boys_.

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Sam wasn't sure when it started raining, only that it seemed fitting. His tears had finally seemed to run out as he sniffled and hiccupped. He still sat curled under the desk in the panic room, too afraid to move. He knew that he needed to go upstairs to clean himself up and to accept the consequences of his actions, whatever that may entail. A little voice in the back of his mind told him that he had done nothing wrong and that there was no need for him to be punished. Sam was afraid of that voice, especially since it was the one that he allowed himself to follow towards hurting his family.

He was jarred out of his musings by the front door banging open and Bobby's voice filtering down the stairs. "Sam? Where the hell are you, boy?" he called. Sam's breathing quickened and he tried to tighten his body into something smaller and far less noticeable. Heavy boots sounded on the stairs, slowly thudding towards the panic room. The older man's voice sounded strained and tired, but not angry. Sam considered crawling out of his hiding place. He was desperate for Bobby to say he understood and that he still loved Sam like a son_. I want him to say that Dean is okay and that he wants me with him_. A shadow fell across him before he could move. Eyes flying up to the older hunter's face, Sam let out a choked sound that had Bobby sighing. "Sam, you need to come out of there and get yourself cleaned up," he said as calmly as possible. He knew that if he startled Sam or scared him, everything would go to hell and he already had one Winchester that would require his undivided attention.

The younger hunter nodded in agreement, but made no move to rise from his cramped position under the desk. Another sigh was sent up into the stale air. Bobby leaned down and held out a hand. "Come on, kiddo; let's get you out of this damp and into some warm clothes." Sam took the proffered hand and began to uncurl his tall body from under the desk. He was too afraid to ask about his brother even though he was anxious to know how he was or even where he was. Trying to avoid looking too closely at Sam's naked and blood spattered body, Bobby guided him up the stairs with a light hand on the boy's shoulder blade. Both men swallowed the tension that was thick in the air as they made their way up the creaking stairs.

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The darkness was hazy and warm; safe. Dean couldn't focus on anything in particular, thoughts and sensations flowing through him in a jumble. At first the dimness was comforting. _I'm safe here, there's no one to hurt me here._ It was quiet. And dark. _No one wanting anything from me. Forcing anything from me. Stealing from me._ A tendril of fear began to snake through the silence. _Sammy touching me like that. Why did he do that?_ Flashes of that horrible night came back to him, beginning with the hunt. Sam had hesitated and Dean had taken the hit in his brother's place. He remembered blood and pain, Bobby stitching his stomach back together, Sam's eyes on him the entire time. _He was worried, I got hurt_. Sam's pupils blown wide, his nostrils flaring, licking his lips at the blood all over his hands. _My blood. His brother's blood._ Dean felt the fear clawing up his stomach. Sam had touched him, touched him like brothers shouldn't touch each other. He began to realize that Sam had been doing that for quite some time, touching whenever he could. _And I never noticed. Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I stop it? _Memories began to rise up, and Dean wanted to suddenly escape from the murky trap of his mind. Sam's huge hands brushing against his when he handed him a bottle of beer; gentle caresses to his arm or shoulder when their father died; Sam smelling his hair when he stood behind him; the stares whenever his blood was spilled and Sam's eagerness to patch him up; the lingering looks; hands grazing his hip or thigh in the car; his brother's newfound need to hug and the occasional brush of lips across his cheek. _He's been doing these little things since he came back from Stanford. And I thought he was just trying to be a good brother_. Dean felt his lungs constrict, fear and anger warring in his mind. Thoughts of his brother, his family that he fought so hard to keep, taking advantage of him without him even realizing was horrifying_. He'll take whatever he wants_. _And I have always given it to him because I'm so scared he'll leave me again! _Rage at Sam's audacity continued to battle with his fear of his own brother. The fear began to take over. He could feel Sam's hands on him, pushing him, his muscles screaming and straining, the searing pain of Sam entering him forcefully, the ferocity in which his brother bit into his throat. _I can't breathe! It hurts! I'm scared!_ While Dean lay trapped in his mind by the sedation, his body responded to the terror and panic he was suffering. The heart monitor picked up speed, the beeps running together into the beginnings of high-pitched wail. Dr. Bourke had been checking on a patient nearby and immediately headed for Dean's room. As she entered the room, Dean began to seize, his body arching off the bed in response to his mind's desire to escape the torment. Strangled screams emitted around the ventilator, his head whipping back and forth, eyes clenched tightly and tears pouring down his bruised cheeks. She was relieved to know that her patient wasn't in actual danger; however, her heart broke knowing that his body was reacting so strongly to the trauma he had endured and was currently re-experiencing in his mind.

**TBC… READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! HUGS!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: Happy New Year to everyone! Sorry for the delay, I've actually had this chapter written for a bit, but I'm just not sure that I'm happy with it. What I _am_ happy with is the wonderful reviews from Tisha Wyman, YaoiIsMyDrug.23, Dubhe666, and a Guest review! You guys rock! And thanks for the many favs and follows! Let me know what ya'll think of this one, and sorry in advanced for the shortness! Hugs to all, double hugs if you leave a review!

**Disclaimer**: I honestly don't own Supernatural, I just torture the boys for my own sick and twisted enjoyment :)

It was finally quiet, staff and patients grateful for the reprieve from the heartbreaking screams coming from the room at the end of the hall. Dr. Bourke pinched the bridge of her nose; the headache had been pounding away behind her eyes for the past two hours. She had no idea how to deal with the situation she found herself in. She had dealt with many cases of traumatized patients, men and women alike, and with horrid psychological and physical wounds. This young man though, this Dean Singer, she had no thoughts on how to help him. She didn't know what made him different or why she felt so helpless as she sat by his bed side. She'd sent his father away, telling him to get rest, and that had backfired on her. He may have been able to calm the boy down better than any of the other staff had been able to. After the first hour of his sedative-induced nightmares, she had agreed to have him restrained so that he couldn't hurt himself any more than he already was. He had kicked and thrashed, choked wails had rebounded off the walls and into the hall, and he had ripped many wires and monitors from his body with his struggles. As the second hour inched by, his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw and bloody as he continued to fight the restraints as he sought to escape the horrors only he could see trapped behind his closed eyelids. Dr. Bourke and several of the nurses tried to calm him with words and gentle touches to uninjured areas, but he had not responded to them. By hour three, the head nurse on staff suggested increasing the sedation to thrust him further into unconsciousness. Dr. Bourke disagreed, she was afraid that it would only intensify the panic the young man was experiencing. With a sigh, she had left to call Bobby and ask him to come back. The man had agreed immediately, and she hated that he sounded so upset. She had actually decided to decrease the amount of sedative being pushed into his IV and within thirty minutes, he had begun to calm, leaving her sitting next to a silently sobbing young man, relishing the quiet and dreading Bobby's wrath.

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Bobby had managed to get Sam upstairs without too much of an effort. Sam had moved like a robot, head down, shoulders hunched, and sniffles and whimpers the only sounds he made. Bobby got him into his and Dean's shared room and began guiding him towards the closest bed, which happened to be Dean's. The bed no longer had smooth sheets covering the mattress, only blood. The older hunter felt his anger start to boil again, clenched his teeth together hard when he felt Sam hesitate at the sight before him. Bobby remembered his earlier anger towards John, towards the fact that there were seldom consequences for Sammy's behaviors. He pushed the younger man in the direction of the bloody mattress. Sam let out a loud sound of distress, turning wide puppy dog eyes on Bobby. The older man shook his head. "Sam, I love you, boy, but I'll be damned if you're gonna walk away from what you did with a smack on the hand," he stated as calmly as he could. Sam had the decency to lower his eyes and nod in understanding as he sat on the very edge of the mattress. Bobby sighed and began to look for clean clothes. "I didn't mean to do it. At least, not like that," the low voice startled Bobby from his own thoughts. "What?" "I've been blaming everything on the demon blood and Ruby because I didn't want to accept how I felt, that the feelings and thoughts I've been having about Dean were really my own. So I just said it was the demon blood. But once things started, I couldn't stop. And I liked knowing that I could control him and what was happening. I felt so powerful and in charge for once. And I hated it and loved it all at the same time. What's happening to me, Bobby?" Sam choked out the words. Bobby just started solemnly at the young man before him. "This is something that is going to take a long time to sort out, son. Answers for this type of stuff don't just fall out of the sky. But what I _do_ know is that you need to get cleaned up so we can go to the hospital. I'm not leaving Dean to try and cope with this alone, any more than I'm going to ask you to." Sam nodded, his dark hair cascading over his face. "Bobby? What if…what if he doesn't want me there?" he asked with a trembling voice. "Well, you may have to deal with that. Dean forgives quickly, and maybe he will this time, too. Or he may be terrified or pissed at you, Sam. So I suggest you figure out what you want to say to him without making things worse. You hear me, boy?" "Yes, sir". The shrill ring of the phone disturbed the terse conversation between the two. Bobby shoved clothes into Sam's hands with instructions for him to shower and then headed for the phone in his bedroom. "Yeah," he snapped, listening for Sam to move into the bathroom and the shower to start. "Mr. Singer? It's Dr. Bourke," came the hesitant voice of Dean's attending physician. "Dr. Bourke. Yeah, is everything okay?" Bobby felt his blood go cold at the realization that there would only be one reason she was calling. "To be blunt, Dean is having a sedative-induced panic attack and we can't get him to calm down. I would like for you to come back to the hospital; I'm sure he'll respond to you", she spoke quickly. He heaved a sigh. "Of course, it'll take me about an hour to get there. Thanks for calling me." He quickly hung up and headed back to the boys' room to pack a few things for Dean and to get ready to head back to the county hospital.

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Dr. Bourke had spent an additional thirty minutes by Dean's bedside before she decided that he could be left alone. His tears had slowed and he appeared to be sleeping quietly. All of the nurses had taken an immediate liking to the young man and kept checking on him in concern after his panic attacks. They were aware that Bobby would be returning, and they were glad he was. They had all been scrambling around, trying to soothe not only Dean, but the other patients as well as each other. It had been a horrifying three hours, listening to the screams, especially with the ventilator warping the pained and frightened sounds. They began to prepare the patients for dinner, each one peeking into Dean's room and sighing with relief to see him still and silent. Many of the nurses had voiced concern that the general noise that accompanied dinner would trigger another panic attack in the young man. Dr. Bourke had seemed positive that he would be able to sleep through it, and left orders for them not to attempt waking him for any reason. They all bustled about their evening routines, continuing to stop at the door at the end of the hall and checking on the sleeping young man. A collective sigh of relief went up when Bobby burst through the doors less than an hour after receiving Dr. Bourke's call. He went straight to Dean's room, tossing a quick wave to the nurses as he went by. A tall young man with floppy dark hair and downturned eyes followed at his heels. A few of the nurses paused to look at him, but said nothing as he appeared to be with Bobby. Cheri, head nurse coming on shift, murmured quietly to another nurse to keep a close eye on the new comer and that she was going to inform Dr. Bourke of Bobby's return.

**TBC**...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I still don't own Supernatural, just playing with the boys for my own entertainment.

The nurses continued to watch over the traumatized young man at the end of the hall. They had seen Bobby around and knew from Dr. Bourke that the older man was trustworthy. What kept them on edge was the towering brunette that followed him, who refused to meet any of their eyes. He kept his jaw clenched and swallowed convulsively while staring at the floor.

Bobby had introduced him to Cheri as Sam, a close friend of Dean's. She wasn't really sure why she was suspicious of the young man, but she instructed her nurses to keep an eye on him. She poked her head into Dean's room whenever she was going by and kept Dr. Bourke post on what was going on. All she knew was that she couldn't wait for the giant man to leave her floor.

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Sam and Bobby sat quietly by Dean's bedside, watching him breathe and sleep. Bobby had moved his chair close and pushed Sam back so that he would be out of Dean's line of sight should he wake. The older man gripped Dean's limp hand in both of his, eyes darting between the limp hand, red splotched bandages around the wrist and under the restraint, to his pale face with bruises to match Sam's fingers and still damp tear tracks. _Jesus, this has all gone to hell_.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Dean by his shoulders and scream at him to wake up. He wanted to punch Sam in the face and scream at him to never hurt his brother like this again. He wanted to scream at the nurses and the damn doctor for not dealing with the situation any better. Bobby took deep breathes. _Don't you dare fucking lose it, these boys need you_.

Sam sat quietly, his gaze glued to his brother's face; however, Bobby's rapid breathes drug his attention to the older man. He looked at his surrogate father and feared that Bobby's closed eyes, tight-lipped grimace, and rocking motion as he clung to Dean's hand meant that he was close to snapping and that he would take it out on Sam. _Well, I knew he'd eventually blame me. And I deserve it. I hurt Dean badly and expected Bobby to be okay with it_.

Without thinking, one of Sam's massive hands brushed the older man's elbow, drawing his attention towards him. Bobby calmed his breathing and gave him a tearful, wobbly smile. "Thanks, Sam," he murmured. "I hate seeing either of you boys hurt and knowing I can't fix it." Sam nodded jerkily. _Maybe I was wrong; maybe we can still be okay_.

Bobby studied Sam for a brief minute, watching emotions flit across the younger's face. He had been more concerned about Dean since he was the one that was physically hurt, and he'd tried to be there for Sam as well, but the look on his face told Bobby that he'd failed. That he had made Dean the most important in this mess, and that Sam thought he deserved a death sentence. He was angry with Sam, there was no denying that, but he was determined not to alienate the younger boy. Even if Dean woke and wanted to never see his brother again, Bobby had promised that he would try not to abandon Sam.

He let go of Dean's hand with his right and reached it back to Sam, lightly patting his knee. Sam's frightened eyes snapped up to meet his, and Bobby smiled. "I know I haven't helped you as much as I can, Sam, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten ya," he said softly. "You and Dean are _both_ important to me, and I'm sorry for being so harsh with you. Just trying to protect you both." Sam nodded, tears beginning to slip from his hazel eyes. "Thanks, Bobby," he whispered, clasping the hand resting on his knee. They sat in a more companionable silence, the tension in the room easing.

A nurse bustled into the room, breaking the stillness among its occupants. She gave a tight smile and Bobby recognized her as Cheri, the head nurse. She attempted to shoo both men from the room so she could take care of Dean, but both stubbornly refused. She raised an eyebrow and her smile relaxed as she took in their willingness to get out of her way and their equally overprotectiveness surging as they watched her like a hawk.

She made no small talk like the other nurses, and she was quick and efficient with her care to Dean. She didn't swoon and she didn't curse "whoever could hurt such a beautiful face". She did, however, grumble about people treating each other better and that it was a shame that people could take from one another so easily. She kept all other thoughts and comments to herself.

She turned back to Bobby and informed him that Dean seemed a little feverish and that it could be from infection or the stress and anxiety the boy had experienced earlier. She reported to both that he appeared comfortable and that his body was working very hard to repair itself, and that he could wake soon. She left as briskly as she came after soliciting a promise from both men that they would call her immediately if Dean seemed uncomfortable, his fever spiked, or if he woke.

Bobby resumed his seat by Dean's head, his left hand sifting through the boy's blond hair and brushing a pale cheek to test for fever, while Sam continue to clutch his right hand. The two hunters sat and waited for the third member of their tiny family to rejoin them.

SPN * SPN * SPN

As the day wore on, both men grew more irritated with each other and the situation they found themselves in. Dean had yet to wake, although his fever remained low. Sam and Bobby had taken turns pacing the small room and agitating the nurses with questions. Cheri had begun to appear in the room more frequently and her attempts at appeasing the men had stopped hours ago. She looked at Sam with open distrust, and Bobby often wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

At the end of several more rounds of pacing, Sam stood in the small hospital room, starring at his brother. He felt so many different emotions swirling in his gut: fear, disgust, anxiety, and lust. Dean lay so still and exceptionally pale that Sam couldn't stop the want churning up in his belly. He lusted after the vulnerability being displayed. _Stop it! That's your brother, for fuck's sake!_

Bobby continued to glance back at the tall Winchester every few minutes, completely creeped out by the now vacant gaze locked on Dean. Sam was aware of Bobby's looks and he had to remind himself that he was in this room to act as a distraught friend, not leer like a rapist getting a second helping. He giggled at his own lewd thought.

The youngest felt pulled between his very different needs and wants. The part that was still truly _Sammy_ wanted to scream and cry for Dean to wake up and forgive him. To nurture his brother and promise to never hurt him again. Beg to be saved. The darker, more hidden part wanted to slash the old man's throat and drag Dean from the safety of the hospital.

He began to fantasize about tearing out the vent and IVs, ripping away bandages, destroying stitches in already damaged flesh. This part of Sam didn't want to be saved; he felt as if he had been rejuvenated. He didn't really care about Dean himself, only about forcing pain and using up the beautiful face and body that his brother had been blessed with. And Bobby was just an annoyance that had to go, like the little bug that he was.

SPN * SPN * SPN

Bobby was aware of Sam's breathing becoming more erratic and the sound of his teeth grinding. He was standing near the foot of the bed, starring at Dean. Bobby could only think of the wolf in fairytales, the one that liked to rip its victims apart. He shivered at the look of pure desire in Sam's darkened eyes. He feared that whatever malevolence had taken up residency in Sam was rising to the surface again, and Bobby knew that he couldn't stop him and that Dean could not survive another attack.

Cheri had stopped being cordial several hours ago, and she looked at Sam with distrust and barely concealed revulsion. She had seen him starring at Dean; she had seen that same wickedness burning in many other men's eyes, the whole while they promised that they'd never hurt their loved ones again. She didn't believe Sam to be a friend, at least not anymore; he'd crossed that line. Her face told Bobby that the younger man was not welcome and that she wanted him gone. Bobby was beginning to agree with her sentiments wholeheartedly.

SPN * SPN * SPN

Dr. Bourke had listened intently to her head nurse. Cheri was good at reading people, and the fact that she was that against the young man with Bobby Singer told the doctor all she needed to know. As she headed towards Dean's room, she heard hushed angry voices that she immediately recognized as Bobby's and Sam's. She slowed her approach and strained to hear them.

"Sam, you're freaking everyone out, including me!" Bobby's voice was low and gruff. "And what would you like me to do to make them all like me?" Sam hissed. "Stop leering at your damn brother, for starters!" _Ah, so that's the connection between them_. "I'm not leering, I'm waiting for him to wake up, same as you," Sam shot back. "No, you're not. You keep looking at him like you want to jump him right here!"

Dr. Bourke was startled by Sam's bark of laughter. "I have more control than that. I'd at least wait till it was dark out and you went home." "You're sick, Sam. I want to help you, but you aren't making it easy with all these damn mood swings!" Bobby retorted. "What the fuck are you talking about, old man?" came the dangerous reply.

She heard the hesitation in Bobby's next statement. "One minute you're using the puppy dog eyes and spouting about wanting to make amends, and the next you're sizing him up like a main dish. _That_ is what I'm talking about, you little shit."

Before any more words could be thrown around, a small whine drifted through the room. Dr. Bourke could hear the fear and pain in the sound; she'd spent hours listening to it the night before. The monitors began to give alerts that Dean was not only awake, but terrified. She entered the room to hear Bobby's panicked cry of "Dean!"

SPN * SPN * SPN

Reality was coming back to Dean with such force that he couldn't stop the whimpers from escaping his throat. He felt the pain of his body throbbing and the memory of Sam's hands on him was overwhelming.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him it was okay to be afraid and that it wasn't weak to admit that he was in pain or afraid. The more dominant part of him tried to snuff out the logic and tell himself that what his brother did was not a big deal. Feeling the restraints around his wrists and ankles brought the fear front and center.

He wasn't sure where he was, only that he hurt and that he couldn't move. His eyelids felt glued shut and there was something sticking in his throat. Whimpers turned into a whine full of pain and desperation. He heard Bobby's voice calling his name, and his mind rushed faster towards consciousness. He felt hands on him, and all he could think of was Sam and fear and that he had to get away.

_**TBC...**_

**_Please leave a review!_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Supernatural or the boys, just playing with them for my own twisted enjoyment. Enjoy!

Bobby had quickly abandoned his argument with Sam. The younger brother stood stock still, rooted to his spot at the foot of the bed, angry sneer gone from his face. They both watched Dean struggle to open hazy eyes, sounds of distress flooding the small room. The old hunter looked at Sam with his own blue eyes wide before turning to hit the red call button next to the bed.

He leaned back over Dean, partially to help draw him into consciousness and partially to block Sam from his line of sight. Panic seemed to settle into the young man in the bed, and Bobby frowned at the tension in previously relaxed muscles until he realized that Dean had become aware of the restraints. As he reached out to release them, Dr. Bourke appeared at his side and helped to free the young man's hands.

Cheri appeared on the other side of the bed, wiping at Dean's eyes to help remove the tackiness that was presently causing him trouble in opening his eyes any further than thin green slits. His eyes flew open, fear openly displayed. Bobby frowned. "Hey, Dean, calm down, son. Everything is gonna be okay," he murmured. He was still somewhat surprised when Dean began to struggle against the hands on him, hands that were only trying to help.

The boy began ripping at the ventilator tube in his throat, thrashing in an attempt to dislodge the other hands still touching him. Sam stepped back, watching with a strange feeling of accomplishment filling his chest. _I made this happen. I caused all this delicious fear, blind panic, not a single drop of trust left_. He covered up his smile with a hand, trying to hide his pleasure from the others in the small hospital room.

SPN * SPN * SPN

It had taken over an hour to calm Dean enough that the doctor and nurse no longer threatened him with restraints. They had been able to remove the ventilator, although Dr. Bourke was reluctant at first. She wanted to leave it in so that it could continue assisting with his breathing while his damaged throat healed. Dean, however, was having that tube out whether she agreed with him or not. She and Cheri finally gave in after having watched the poor soul struggle so much over the past two days.

The two medical professionals left after a quick check up and their patient seemed as settled as he could be. The doctor promised she would be back shortly to clean and rebandage his wounds, but Dean did not respond to her. He lay curled on his side, eyelids drooping, a frown pulling his lips tight. Bobby held both of his hands, murmuring soothing things as he petted his hair and caressed his face occasionally, still checking for fever.

Aside from sounds of distress, not a single word had passed through the boy's lips. "Dean," Bobby spoke softly. "Please, boy, say something. Tell me you're okay." Dean gave no response to the older man's pleading, not even a blink of his glazed eyes. "Please, Dean, Sam and I have been so worried about you," he tried again.

Still no response came from the young man in the bed. Sam moved to stand over Bobby's shoulder, a small smile on his lips. "Come on, Dean, say one little thing, it's not that hard," he added, his tone condescending. He sat on the edge of the mattress, one large hand resting on Dean's knee. When Dean remained stubbornly silent and still, Sam slid his hand up Dean's outer thigh to rest the offending appendage on his hip.

He squeezed the hipbone, a not-so-innocent smile spreading as he leaned towards his brother's face. Dean's eyes widened and Sam was thrilled by the fear flooding the green irises. Dean jerked his body away from the upsetting touch, falling from the small bed, much to Bobby's distress. Sam was around the bed in an instant, reaching for his fallen brother.

The younger brother wasn't sure what to expect, maybe a punch to the face, _or to the groin_ his mind supplied; however, neither man was prepared for Dean's actual reaction. The wounded hunter scrambled into the corner as quickly as he could, ripping wires and IVs from his skin in the process. As Sam closed in on him and leaned down to grab an arm to pull him up, Dean opened his mouth and screamed as loud as he could, tears spilling down his pasty cheeks.

Cheri was in the room before Bobby could push the call button, anger blazing hotly in her dark eyes as she shoved Sam away from her frightened patient. "Get out!" she and Bobby snarled in unison. Cheri set to work trying to calm a hyperventilating Dean; she feared the panic attack was too far gone that the boy would hurt himself and her only choice would be to restrain and then sedate him again. She knew that route had not worked well the last time, but she was losing him.

"Let me help," Bobby's voice came from her left. She stepped back and watched him crowd into the corner and begin to draw the terrified young man to him. Dean struggled weakly against the older man, but he seemed to recognize that they weren't trying to hurt him. "It's okay now," the old man whispered to the distraught boy. "I gotcha, it's okay, you're safe. Please trust me, I won't let anyone else ever hurt you like this again, I promise, son. Take some deep breaths for me, just like that, Dean, keep going, you're doing great, slow breaths," he continued with a string of gentle words.

Cheri blinked wide eyes as Dean clung to Bobby, sobbing brokenly into the older man's chest. Bobby's smile was soft and she was able to see the pain hidden there at having to comfort his child in such a situation. She hated cases like this.

The sound of a throat clearing at the doorway drew both Bobby and Cheri's attention. Sam still stood there, with what Bobby had dubbed as his "Sammy face" firmly in place. His hazel eyes were wide and sad, a look of hurt twisting his mouth. "Dean? Why are you afraid of me? It's Sammy, I just want to help you," his voice was mournful, and had Bobby not seen and heard the evil dripping from every poor earlier, he would have believed the charade. He pulled Dean closer to him, feeling his body shake harder.

Cheri watched with shrewd eyes, taking in every detail. She had seen the hulking man staring at Dean in ways that screamed _monster _and spoke volumes of the torturous things he craved. She saw Bobby pulling Dean closer to him while backing the young man towards her as well, so that they made a shield between Sam and Dean.

The nurse was even more certain that she had made the right decision about calling for security as she saw Dean's trembling hands come up to cover his ears while Sam called to him. Two burly men in hospital security uniforms appeared behind Sam, each snatching an arm before he could respond. "You need this guy out, Cheri?" the taller of the two guards asked. She nodded curtly. "Yeah, thanks, Jake." She had more important things to deal with than worrying about Sam continuing to cause her patient any more distress.

_**Please leave a review! TBC...**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the boys, I just play with them for a bit.**

**Author Note: Sorry this chap is so short. Thanks to all who reviewed, faved, or followed.**

The room was quiet, only the sounds of Bobby's sighs and Dean's wheezing breaths could be heard. Cheri had continued to peek into the room, glad that her patient remained asleep and that Bobby still sat by his side. She listened to the soft song the older man was murmuring as he stroked one hand along Dean's bruised cheekbone. The coffee cup clutched in his other hand was nearing empty and the nurse decided he needed another cup of good brew and something to eat.

It had taken her and the older man almost two hours to calm the panic the blonde was experiencing. Sam being removed from the room had made things easier on them, one less thing to worry about, but the young man had practically blacked out without realizing the source of his fear was gone. After they had gotten Dean back into the bed and IVs reinserted, Bobby has busied himself with cleaning the boy up while Cheri checked for damage done to his stitches.

She returned to the room with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate piled high with sandwiches, fruit, and chips for the sweet man. Bobby looked up at her entrance, his face relaxing into a relieved smile when he saw that no danger was coming. "Thought you could use some good coffee and some food," she offered. His smiled brightened and he quickly accepted her offerings.

Cheri came further into the room and began a check on her patient while Bobby began to eat. "That's some good joe," he moaned into the mug. She gave a laugh as she finished her check. "You deserve something better than the crap the machine spews," she chuckled. "How's he doing?" he motioned to Dean with his chin, chewing on a sandwich. "He's doing okay, no bleeds, fever is about the same, seems to be resting okay."

Bobby released a breath. "Thank God, I don't think I could take any more bad news." Cheri nodded in sympathy. "I called the cops about Sam, so if he comes around here again, I'll have him arrested. Just wanted you to know," she spoke softly, watching Bobby intently. He nodded in understanding. She decided to chance one more question. "Did Sam do this to Dean?" Bobby's blue eyes rested on the pale face of Dean, slid over the bruises and the bandages. He shook his head sadly; it would have to be Dean's decision to severe ties with his brother or to press charges. "I don't know," he murmured.

SPN * SPN * SPN

It had been four days since Dean had woke up in the hospital. He hated that he'd had multiple panic attacks and that he'd allowed others to see his weakness. He was ashamed of his behavior. Bobby sat nearby, head resting on his chest and trucker cap tipped over his eyes. He hadn't left Dean's side often, and on the few occasions that he had, Cheri had been present.

He'd grown used to the nurse's presence; she was gentle but didn't fall for his charm and he knew she could see right through his mask. She didn't take any bullshit from him or from Bobby. Dean realized that he hadn't seen Sam once since the first day, since he'd humiliated himself by falling out of bed and screaming like a girl when his brother touched him.

If he was honest with himself, he was damn terrified of this darker persona his little brother had taken on. He had no idea what had possessed his brother to attack him and he wanted to deny anything else that had happened. Cheri had been blunt and asked who had raped him and then asked if it had been Sam; he'd withdrawn further.

Bobby had given him many spiels about it being okay to admit what happened and that it didn't make him less of a man. He had tuned them both out. A soft sigh from Bobby drew his attention, not that he allowed it to show. He had remained silent since Sam's "visit" and after Cheri's constant probing he stopped making eye contact.

He knew the differences in Bobby's sighs, and the one he'd just released was more on the sad side. He heard the gruff hunter shuffle in his seat and take a sip of his cold coffee. The older man leaned towards to bed, touching Dean's hand, which was ignored. On the inside, Dean wanted to shriek and pull away, scream at the man he thought of as a father not to ever touch him again. _But that isn't how a man handles this. There's no such thing as "trauma" in this life_.

He heard another sigh, this one of frustration. "Dean, son, you need to stop hiding from this. Not talking and not looking at us is not going to make this go away. You need to deal with this. And you need to decide what you want to do about Sam," he murmured to the young man that appeared to be comatose. _What's there to decide about Sam? I should just get over it, right?_ He was too afraid to voice the thoughts out loud.

"You don't have to make a definite decision right now, but you need to decide if you want to see him here. I know you've heard Cheri talking about how she'll have him arrested if he comes here and you don't let us know if you want to see him."

Dean gave no reaction, but Bobby could see his muscles tense and tears welling in green eyes. "You don't have to see him if you don't want to, Dean. No one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to, but you need to at least talk to us. Let us help you, son". Dean allowed his eyes to close, too many thoughts clashing together in his mind. Tears slipped down his cheeks and Bobby brushed them away, releasing another dejected sigh.

**TBC... Please review**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or Sam and Dean; I just play with them for fun.

**Author's Note:** There are only a few chapters left. Pay attention to the switches between the different sides of Sam…. All mistakes are mine

Six days had passed since Sam had seen Dean. He was upset that his brother had been so frightened of him, while a tiny part shoved to the back of his mind relished the wonderful screams. He was sure he had never witnessed Dean expressing so much fear so openly.

The brunette was ashamed of himself, thinking back to how he'd tormented his injured sibling, knowing that he himself had caused most of the injuries. While Dean had lain in that hospital bed, struggling to draw breath and contain his panic, Sam had used his size and touch to intimidate his brother.

He knew that Bobby had seen the two different sides to him and the man knew he had been the one to attack Dean in the first place. He was surprised that he hadn't been arrested for rape or assault. Sam knew he had to be more careful, especially around Cheri.

He had seen the way the nurse had kept her eye on him every time he'd been at the hospital and she'd had no problems with having him removed from hospital premises. The lighter, gentler side of him wanted to turn himself in or go to the hospital and beg his brother to forgive him. The darker, vicious side only wanted to sneak in and drag Dean from the protection of the hospital and Bobby. _And that damn nurse. _

He was so caught up in thoughts of the other hunter's dirty blonde hair, surprisingly soft skin, and plush lips that hours had slipped away from him. _Sammy_ was pushed to the back of his mind, screaming to be let out and that he would not allow his precious brother to be hurt any further. Sam snickered.

He felt like he had two people living inside him, and all he could think of was the angel and demon that cartoons showed sitting on people's shoulders, giving them advice. He was obviously the devil, and simpering little Sammy was the angel. _And the little angel is locked away, leaving the devil to play._

SPN * SPN * SPN

Cheri and Bobby stood in the doorway of Dean's room. The young hunter in question lay on his side, face flushed with fever. He'd suffered from multiple nightmares and panic attacks after infection set into the wounds to his throat and stomach, and the two protectors were grateful for the reprieve.

Cheri kept her gaze on her patient while leaning towards Bobby. "He's been talking in his sleep," she reported. Bobby nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on Dean's face. "I know," he murmured.

"He keeps asking Sam to stop," she stated. Bobby sighed. "Yeah, I know. I lied to you. I knew it was Sam that hurt him. They aren't friends, they're brothers," he spoke lowly. He saw Cheri nod in his peripheral.

"It was actually admirable that you left the choice up to Dean, that he could forgive or press charges," she replied. The older man snorted. "Admirable. I call it being a coward. I couldn't even protect my boy." They stood in silence, keeping their vigil.

"Bobby, if Sam and Dean are brothers, then doesn't that make Sam your son, too?" she asked. "Well, technically, neither of the boys are my biological children. But, with Dean, I just bonded with him when he was little, you know?"

Cheri turned her stare to Bobby. "A little more clarification, please," she asked, one brow raised in question. He chuckled.

"Sam and Dean are actually the sons of an old friend, and he left them with me when he had to work out of town. Dean was about five, and Sam was about one. I just automatically felt drawn to Dean. I care about Sam, too, just not in the same way as Dean." Cheri nodded in understanding.

"Their dad passed away, and their mom had passed when the boys were real young. So I just took them in, or at least Dean. Sam fought to remain independent. I made sure that I put them both on my health insurance and Dean just eventually changed his name. Sam didn't," Bobby's voice was lost in past memories.

Cheri hummed, a faraway look in her eyes. They stood together for a bit longer, enjoying the companionable silence until Dean began struggling with the sheets tucked around him. Both instantly moved to his side in an attempt to stem the panic before it even started.

Bobby quickly rolled Dean onto his back, loosening the sheets and blankets. Cheri was on the other side of the bed, waiting to wipe the sweat from the young man's face. The blonde's lashes began to flutter, a frightened whimper floating into the quiet of the room. His wheezing breath sped up as he tried to escape the darkness of his mind.

"Stop, you're hurting me," he mumbled. "I don't want this, stop." Bobby sat on the side of the bed, rubbing circles into his chest in an attempt to calm the boy. "It's okay, Dean. You're safe, no one can hurt you here," he spoke softly.

Dean squirmed against the hold Bobby had on him, head thrashing on the pillow. Tears spilled down his flushed cheeks. "No no no no no no," he wailed. Cheri continued to make shushing sounds as she wiped his face and neck.

"No, stop Sam, you're hurting me. You're hurting me! Stop Sam!" Dean bolted up with a cry. Bobby wasted no time in pulling the blonde into his arms, waiting for the struggle to begin. Instead, Dean pressed himself into the older hunter's chest, sobbing. "I don't want to see him, I don't want him near me, please," he cried. Bobby and Cheri exchanged surprised glances over the blonde's head, but remained silent in their support.

SPN * SPN * SPN

Sam had spent a restless night, struggling with all the conflicting thoughts trapped in his mind. _Sammy_ had been pounding away at his skull, screaming shrilly for him to stop hurting Dean. Sam had enjoyed replaying the events of the last week in his mind for _Sammy_ to see again and again and again.

The screams grew louder and more furious as the night went. He had laughed, feeling a thrill that was almost as tantalizing as Dean's fear and pain. Sammy had always shied away from his less than brotherly feelings towards Dean, afraid to let his brother know of his desires.

Sam, on the other hand, had no problem just taking what he wanted from the blonde hunter. _I'm on top now, Sammy, and what I say goes from now on._ He had plans to go back to the hospital and to charm his way into his brother's room.

It was getting late and the nurses would get careless. _Just gotta get rid of Bobby, and then Dean will be at my mercy._ Sammy screamed and pleaded for the darkness inside to leave his family alone.

SPN * SPN * SPN

It was well past visiting hours when Bobby finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep. He and Cheri had spent an emotional evening trying to lull Dean back to sleep. The young man had been distraught but finally admitted that Sam had attacked him and while he had not voiced exactly what had happened, he had mumbled enough to give them the answers they already knew.

Bobby remembered thinking that Dean looked like the lost and hurt 5 year old he'd been thinking of earlier. The younger hunter had not shown so much emotion in so long that Bobby couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen it.

Cheri had felt badly, but still had no problem attempting to talk Dean into allowing her to file a report and press charges against Sam. The blonde had retreated back into himself, refusing to commit to anything.

Bobby had moved back into his chair and began stroking his boy's face and singing the same old lullaby in an attempt to sooth the pain he could only imagine that Dean was experiencing. As the older hunter slipped into sleep, he missed seeing the shadow lingering outside the door to Dean's room.

**TBC… Please review**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or Sam and Dean; I just play with them for fun.

**Author's Note: **I think Sam is a little crazy here... sorry it's taken so long but I wanted to get something out to you lovely readers... all mistakes are mine

Bobby never saw the tall shadow creeping into the room. Dean lay still, heavily sedated to allow his body to rest. Sam towered over the other two men, contemplating his next move. The darkness wanted to slash the old man's throat and haul Dean from the bed; however, little Sammy was still simpering in the back of his mind so he settled for following through with the plan he'd concocted on a whim.

He'd been caught sneaking in by the night nurse, a pretty little blonde that had immediately blushed when he bumped into her. He had spun a thread about he and Dean being secret lovers and that Bobby was making up lies to keep them apart. She had begun to fill in the gaps, gushing about true love and the cruelty of taking it from them.

She had whispered Dean's room number and Sam had nodded as if he didn't know where his brother was. He had thanked her profusely and she had promised to buy him some time to sneak in and see Dean. Sam had no intention of hanging around.

He left Bobby snoring in his chair and set to work on disconnecting Dean's monitors without disturbing him. After fifteen minutes, Sam stood back and looked down on the flushed face of his brother; of his new toy. He lifted the blonde up into his arms and headed for the door, Bobby never stirring. Sam slipped from the hospital grounds, Dean cradled in his arms.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Bobby began to stir when he felt sunlight fall across his face. Blinking open tired blue eyes, he was pleased that both he and Dean had slept through the early morning after such a stressful night. His good mood was quickly washed away when his gaze landed on an empty bed, wires and tubes littering the blankets.

"Dean!" he shouted. He hit the red emergency button and wheeled around to seek help when Dr. Bourke appeared. "What's going on?" she asked in a sharp voice. "Dean is gone, that's what's going on!" Bobby snarled. Dark eyes blinked behind glasses, and then she was moving down the hall towards the nurses' desk barking orders.

An alert was put out for a kidnapped patient and she began describing Sam to the same blonde nurse who had helped the sad man with puppy-dog eyes. Dr. Bourke's keen gazed picked up on the horror on her face. "You saw him," she stated, starring at the nurse. Kelly, Bobby remembered, burst into tears, sobs incoherent.

One of the other nurses stepped up and called for security and then made a call to the local police to report that a patient had been abducted from his room. Kelly continued to sob and shriek as she was forcibly pulled down the hall by two security officers. The doctor turned to Bobby, asking if he knew where Sam might go with Dean. He had no idea.

Cheri was suddenly at his side, face flushed and breathless. "Is it true? Was Sam here? Did he take Dean?" she gasped. Bobby nodded, his mouth drawn into a hard line. "We gotta find that kid," she stated, turning on her heel. Bobby followed her, feeling panic begin to overwhelm him.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Dean began to come around as dawn broke, the sedatives finally wearing off enough for him to wake. He became aware that he was no longer lying in the warm bed and that his wrists were tied tightly together. He could feel whatever he was laying on move beneath him and he heard the rumble of a car. Not any car he realized, but _his_ car.

He knew he shouldn't be in the backseat of the Impala, especially not with his hands tied to the door handle. Forcing feverish green eyes up, Dean immediately recognized Sam in the driver's seat. _Fuck! Bobby promised I didn't have to see him!_

His fear only escalated when he realized that the older man was not occupying the passenger seat. Sam glanced back in the review mirror when a whimper caught his attention. Dean was unsure if he'd made the weak noise, and then became aware of the gag wedged between his teeth. _What the hell is he going to do to me?_ He didn't really want to know.

**TBC... Leave a review please!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Author's Note**: Okay folks, the ride gets a little graphic here. This chap is dedicated to **The Lady Loves the Dark **whom simply asked for an update. For the reviewers who only left comments along the lines of "stop procrastinating" and that "real life" shouldn't interrupt a story, I sincerely hope you never develop cancer and come out of remission, because fanfiction was the last thing on my mind. With that said, I'll climb off my soap box and hope you enjoy.

Sam had spent the drive thinking about all of the things he planned to do with his new toy. He was trying to decide whether to start with torture or sex, or maybe just mix it all up and go with his impulses. A small sound from the backseat drew his attention. He raised hazel eyes to the mirror and was greeted with fever-brightened green. A smirk spread across his face, loving the fear and weakness his brother was displaying. "Hey, Dean, ready to play some more?"

Dean began to struggle against his bindings, terrified of what this Sam's idea of play was. He didn't want the monster anywhere near him. He was positive that the thing wearing his beloved little brother's face was not Sammy; he would never have hurt him like this. The Impala slowed, pulling over to a gravel path. Sam got out of the car, humming a jaunty tune. He opened the back door and leaned in with a smile. "Time for another quick nap," he laughed, jamming a needle into his brother's thigh. Sam's manic grin was the last thing Dean saw as his body went limp.

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Dean slowly came back to awareness. He wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there, only that he felt exhausted and afraid. He became aware that was lying down and that he was cold. His attempt to sit up was halted by his bound hands. He looked over his head to see a pipe protruding from the wall, and his hands were tied to it. The ground beneath him was hard-packed dirt and the only light he could see was from a tiny window up near the ceiling of the room. _Basement_.

He had brief flashes of telling Bobby that he was done with Sam, of feeling somewhat at ease with the older man and the nurse. _But that was in the hospital._ More recent memories surged forward, reminding him of being alone with Sam, tied up in the back of the Impala. Panic began to flare, forcing his breaths to come faster and shallower. Dean struggled to orient himself to his surroundings and his own body. He could not afford for Sam to catch him off-guard.

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Bobby and Cheri had both been calling contacts and driving through the town looking for any sign of the boys. Bobby had gotten in touch with hunters and police alike, not caring who found his boy; only that he was found alive. He knew that Sam was no longer himself.

Cheri drove her SUV up and down the roads of the town, then turned and headed for the outskirts of town. She began to laugh. She received a shocked look from Bobby, which quickly morphed into fury. "What the hell are you suddenly finding funny about this?" he snapped at her.

The nurse shook her head, reigning in her hysterics. "I just realized that I've never jumped in my car to hunt down is missing patient before. I'm blaming all irrationality on you." The hunter simply started at her until his phone rang, dragging his attention back to the task of finding Sam and Dean.

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Silence was settling back into the darkness. Sam had disappeared back up the stairs while Dean lay in a sobbing heap on the dirt floor. His mind was overloaded with pain and fear, trying to sort through what he had just experienced. To try and comprehend what his _brother_ had just done to him over the past few hours. _Calm down_ his mind urged. He needed to assess the damage quickly so he could start to pull together some sort of plan. _Unless you want to wait for Sam to kill you_. Dean whimpered at that thought and began to go through a mental checklist of his injures.

Sam had been serious about the torture. He'd started by ripping out each of Dean's fingernails, and the broke each finger one joint at a time. He knew his right wrist was broken. His right shoulder was dislocated and his left clavicle was broken from Sam kneeling on them. Dean's mind skittered away from that particular memory, only touching it enough to catalog the increased damage to his throat and mouth from the attack.

Sam had dug fingers into his already crushed throat so that when Dean opened his mouth to scream, the brunette had forced his leaking erection in and rammed it down his brother's throat. Tears began to spill down Dean's checks and he forced the images away. He couldn't stop berating himself for not even noticing Sam's lack of clothes as he'd straddled him.

He could hear Sam's cold laughter ringing through the room as he'd moved down towards the blonde's bare feet. He'd proceeded to tear away each toenail and then break the toe, as well as several bones in each foot. Dean had never felt anything so excruciating. A knife had appeared in Sam's large hand and with a gleaming smile, the knife slid beneath each of Dean's kneecaps.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the abuse his body had endured; he was so consumed by the pain and betrayal. Sam had slashed the bottoms of his feet, and sliced several shallow lines across his face and neck. Then had come the worse part; at least it was in Dean's mind.

Sam had choked him. He'd pressed down on Dean's mangled windpipe and rode the writhing and thrashing body beneath him. Sam had laughed at the broken and bloody hands scrabbling at his arms and face. He stared down into green eyes until they lost focus and the bruised mouth stopped gasping, the body stilling underneath him. Then he'd released the blonde and waited for his breathing to return to some semblance of normal and Dean's wide eyes were staring back at him in absolute terror. Then Sam started all over again. Dean wasn't sure how many times the monster had done that.

The rape that followed was hazy, with Dean only registering the pain of his entrance tearing and his left hip being pushed out of its socket. His mind had been filled with _this isn't Sammy_. Seeing that his toy was no longer responsive, Sam went back upstairs, leaving Dean in his current predicament.

The blonde realized that his mobility was limited, although Sam had left his hands and feet free. His eyes caught onto two dark lumps off to his side; Sam's bag and jacket. _He must've thought I wouldn't try to get to them_. Unfortunately for Sam, Dean was petrified and the adrenaline fueled him to crawl and drag himself towards the bag. He prayed that the brunette had been careless enough to have left his cell in the jacket pocket, and that he could find something to use as a weapon.

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Bobby was startled to see Sam's name flashing on his screen. Throwing a look to Cheri, he put the call on speaker and answered, "Yeah?" Static crackled down the line. "Bobby?" No matter how faint or destroyed to voice was recognition surged immediately thought the older hunter. "Dean! Where are you, son?" Silence was the answer. "I don't know," was finally whimpered into the phone.

After a few seconds, the blonde's voice became a little steadier. "I turned the GPS on in his phone." Bobby winced; he hated hearing Dean speak about Sam as if he was an unknown assailant. _Hell, I suppose he is_. "Okay, that's good, Dean. I can track you that way. You did real good."

He heard a shaky breath on the other end, and what sounded like crying. "Tell me about where you are, boy," he wanted to keep the younger hunter talking; talking meant he was alive. The crying increased and Bobby felt panic clench at his heart.

Cheri pulled to the side of the road while Bobby worked to track the GPS on Sam's phone. "Dean, tell me about where you are." The crying grew more hysterical. "I don't know!" he sobbed. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay, Dean.' Bobby soothed. "No, it won't be!" Dean cried. "I shot him; I shot Sam!"

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the boys, I'm just messing with them to make myself feel better.

**Author's Note**: I want to thank you all for the lovely reviews and for feeding my happy little muse. I know this chapter was supposed to be the final one, but I'm getting ready for chemo again and I know I won't be up to writing for a while. So this short little chapter is for you patient people, and please, even though I know where this story is going, I'd love to hear what you would like to see happen! Enjoy!

Bobby stared at the phone, not sure of what to say. The crying continued, and he could hear Dean's breathing quicken as the panic attack began. "Dean. Son, you have to calm down," he spoke softly, hoping to regain the younger hunter's attention. Cheri turned sad eyes to him. "You got a direction to go in?" "Yeah, head towards the camping park," he murmured, anxious to get to Dean. Cheri began to shout directions and orders into her own phone as she pulled back on the road.

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Dean could hear Bobby's voice floating through the phone he gripped tightly in his right hand. His hold was tenuous and the device was slicked with blood from his fingers. His left hand loosely held onto the gun he'd found hidden in Sam's bag, underneath the flannel shirt he was currently wearing. He had felt filthy and vulnerable, and although it had seemed silly to look for clothes, Dean hadn't been able to help himself. The shirt reminded him of his baby brother and not the monster trying to kill him. The Taurus was Sam's favorite gun, and Dean found it odd that the man had just left it in a bag in the same room as his captive. He'd rifled through the pockets of Sam's coat and come across a pocket knife and his cell phone. It had taken so much effort to get the cover off and get the GPS turned on that he hadn't bothered to put the phone back together before trying to get his torn fingers to dial Bobby's number. He was so focused on maintaining his breathing and dialing the number that he hadn't heard Sam until the man stopped a few feet away from him. Sam had laughed, finding the other hunter to be more resourceful than he'd thought. _Looky there, big brother looks absolutely delicious, doesn't he, Sammy?_ The dark side delighted in seeing the normally tough hunter stripped of his bravado, curled on the dirty floor wearing nothing but a flannel shirt and his own blood. Dean pushed himself backwards, phone still clasped in his hand, the gun hidden under his thigh. "Stay away from me!" he cried in a shaky voice. More laughter from Sam as he took another step forward. "Stop!" On the third step, Dean jerked his left arm up and pulled the trigger. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of his own gun gripped in his brother's hand, and staggered backwards. The bullet tore into his stomach, dropping him to his knees. "You little shit! I'll fucking kill you for that!" he roared. Dean was crying, but squeezed off another shot; this one striking Sam in the shoulder and dropping the younger man to the ground. Dean had dialed Bobby's number, admitted that he'd shot his brother, and was beginning to hyperventilate as the bloody phone slipped from his fingers, all the while Bobby's voice drifting up to him from the ground. He quickly forgot about the phone when he heard a moan and shuffling on the dirt floor from the direction of Sam. "Please stay down," he whispered, not sure he could pull the trigger against his brother again. The taller hunter slowly sat up and Dean was positive that he saw a flicker of his Sammy in the hazel eyes. "Dean," the brunette hissed, "you have to get out of here. You have to run before he takes over again." Dean was unsure of what to do, especially since he couldn't run as the other man suggested. "Sammy?" he choked out. "Is that you?" "Yes, and I'm so sorry, Dean. This is a part of me that I've hidden for so long; that I never wanted you to know about. But I can't control it anymore, and you have to get out before I kill you!" Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy, no. Bobby is coming; he can fix this. You can't just give up". Sam sighed. "Dean, stop being so damn stubborn. Now is not the time to argue. There isn't anything to fix because there isn't anything wrong. This is me. I've gotten a taste for blood and torture and pain. I don't want to hurt you; I love you more than I should. So get out before I take more away from you." The blonde was dismissed by Sam's speech, but he could not understand what his brother was saying. "Are you saying that you are choosing to do this? That you want to do these things to me?" Dean was nauseated by what he was hearing. He did not want to believe that beneath the monster before him was really his baby brother; the brother he had sacrificed everything for. "Yes, Dean. I'm hurting you because I can. I crave your taste now, and although I fought it earlier, felt bad for what I did, that's no longer the case. There is no more of your precious _Sammy _left, just _Sam_. And _Sam_ wants to watch you suffer and hear you beg for death." Dean let out a frightened squawk when Sam rose to his feet, malicious grin stretching wide across his face. His hazel eyes darkened to a muddy brown and he began to move towards Dean again. The blonde shoved himself further away until his back hit the wall, pleading repeatedly for Sam to "stop" and "no" and "stay back". Bobby's voice shouting over the phone wasn't heard by either man, and Sam continued towards his toy. Dean released a bloodcurdling scream as Sam towered over him, silver knife gleaming in the giant's hand. A shot rang out in the room; Dean looked up to realize with growing horror that his sense of self-preservation had triggered him to lift the gun one more time and pull the trigger. Sam staggered back from his brother, hands going to his throat as he collapsed to the dirty floor of the basement.

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Bobby realized that Dean was no longer paying attention to him; that most likely the boy was torturing himself about what had happened to Sam. He heard the phone thump to the ground on the other end, and he began yelling for Dean to talk to him. He could hear movement, Dean's frantic breaths, and the deep murmur of Sam's voice. He could pick out pieces of the conversation; his heart sank when he heard bits of Sam admitting that it was him enjoying hurting his brother, that there was no supernatural monster. There were more scrabbling noises, the blonde begging Sam to stop, and then Dean screamed, loud and shrill. Cheri stomped down on the gas and the SUV surged forward. Bobby let loose a string of curses, praying that Jodi Mills was closing in on the cabin faster than he and Cheri were. He prayed that the rescue services Cheri had called for were already there. The hunter was startled out of his thoughts by a gunshot on the other end of the line. He shouted for Dean to pick up; he begged the blonde to answer him. He heard more shuffling and, finally, Dean's wrecked voice. "Bobby… help me… please," he sobbed before the line clicked and went dead.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: ** Well, folks, here it is, the end of this story. I had no idea it would turn out this way when I started it. I hope you all enjoy it, and I wish you all a very happy new year :)

**Disclaimer:** Yep, I still work for a living, I don't own the boys, I just torment them. A lot. :)

Bobby tossed back another shot of whiskey. He was dreading what tomorrow would bring. Dean had only been out of the hospital for a little over two months; the entire incident had been six months ago. Bobby knew that he would never forget pulling up to that cabin and seeing a medic carrying Dean in his arms like a limp ragdoll; like the blonde weighed nothing. Then they drug out Sam between a medic and a cop, handcuffs shiny against his bloodied skin. Jodi had approached quickly, determined to keep the older hunter out of the way, and away from Sam. _The kid looked just like a serial killer_.

Cheri had jumped into the fray to help. Sam had been taken to the prison and placed in the locked hospital unit. Dean had returned to the county hospital he'd been taken from. Sam had called the hospital and Bobby relentlessly, begging to speak with Dean. Bobby had ignored most of the calls after telling Sam that he was not welcome and that he would not pass any messages to Dean. Cheri had kept all calls from the brunette blocked at the hospital.

Dean had been a mess, physically and emotionally; the last thing he needed was Sam trying to get back into his life. There had been many surgeries to repair the bulk of the damage Sam's torture had done. Bobby had sat at the blonde's bedside many nights, watching the boy cry himself to sleep from the pain and aching deep in his bones. There were nightmares and panic attacks, infections and illness, depression and anxiety. The older man was exhausted from the ordeal; he couldn't even imagine how Dean was remotely staying sane.

He had been attending counseling sessions since he had been in the hospital, at Dr. Bourke's insistence; however, the young man had yet to speak. He continued working on physical therapy once he'd returned to Bobby's house, and Bobby made sure he went to each and every counseling session whether the boy spoke or not. He was surprised when he saw Dean writing in a journal, which Dr. Bourke later informed him, was at the request of the psychologist. _Since Dean seems to prefer remaining silent, Dr. Osborne has asked him to keep a journal of writings and drawings_ she had said. Dean had left the book lying on his desk in his bedroom, so it didn't appear that he was trying to hide anything from Bobby. _But tomorrow's gonna be hell_ he thought miserably. Tomorrow he was taking Dean to the prison to see Sam; to decide if he would cut ties with his brother or forgive him. Bobby was dreading the whole thing; no matter the outcome, it was going to be ugly.

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It turned out that neither man slept well that night. Bobby had sat up in the armchair drinking coffee to sober up while Dean lay on the couch. The blonde woke himself every thirty minutes or so from a nightmare. As they entered the prison, Bobby caught a glimpse of himself. He was wearing his FBI suit, but his face was splotchy and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Dean was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, his face pasty and gaunt, his eyes dull and fearful. The older man wanted to run; to just turn Dean's wheelchair around and head back to the truck. However, he suppressed the urge and kept walking towards the "visitation" area.

He was surprised to see Dean's psychologist standing there. Dr. Osborne was a pleasant lady, with long red hair and honey brown eyes. Bobby smiled tightly at her while Dean remained blank. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked her. She shook her head. "Only Dean knows the answer to that". He nodded with a sigh, and then moved around the chair to help Dean up.

Even silent, Dean was able to let his wants and needs be known, but he hadn't put up any kind of fight when Bobby suggested that they use the wheelchair. Normally, the blonde would have fought with him about it, as he had many days; but not today. Today he had dressed in the clothes Bobby told him to, attempted to eat the food Bobby pushed at him, and had accepted Bobby's urgings to use the wheelchair without a single complaint. The young man in front of him was sick with fear, and again Bobby found himself fighting the urge to whisk Dean away from the situation. Let Sam rot in prison, or Hell, for all he cared.

Dr. Osborne helped Bobby move Dean into the room where he would speak with his brother. They got him situated in the chair and she showed him a signal he was to give if he wanted to end the meeting. Dean nodded once and turned his eyes to the table. Bobby stood from his kneeling position and pressed a quick kiss to Dean's temple. "I'm right here if you need me, sweet pea," he murmured, hoping the childhood pet name would be calming, before following the psychologist out the door.

A large metal door on the far side of the room opened with a clang. Dean jumped and then tried to calm himself, taking a few deep breaths. He had to do this. _I have to make sure my Sammy is gone_. Sam was ushered into the room wearing an orange jumpsuit completed with wrist and ankle shackles. Bobby was somewhat relieved that the youngest Winchester couldn't get to Dean; however, the blonde paled even further at the sight of his tormentor stood in front of him. One of the guards shoved him down into the chair. Sam's face was sallow and dark stubble shadowed his face. He was wearing the "Sammy eyes", as Bobby had dubbed it, meaning he was hoping to get under Dean's skin with the puppy dog eyes. Dean kept eye contact with his brother minimal.

"Dean. I'm so sorry," Sam began. "I never meant to hurt you, but there was this side of me that needed you to know that I love you; that I love you as more than a brother." Dean didn't look up. "De, you know that I would never hurt you on purpose. You know that, right?" Again, the older brother remained silent. "I see," Sam murmured. "You're just going to hide inside of yourself, is that what they all told you to do? That if you didn't talk to me that everything would be all better?" The brunette snorted at the lack of response.

"Yes, of course that's what they told you. You know what's really happening though, don't you? That they're trying to keep us apart; they can't stand that we're lovers". Dean felt his stomach drop and had to force the urge to vomit back down. _Lovers? We're not even brothers anymore_. He finally let his eyes rise, but could only manage to look at Sam's chin.

"You love me so much that you attacked me in the safety of our home? And then you kidnapped me from a hospital and tortured me?" he murmured, his first actual words spoken in over six months. "I didn't want to do that, Dean, but I had no other choice." Dean was shaking, grasping the arms of his chair tightly to hide the tremors. "There is always a choice. And you chose to hurt me instead of helping me." Sam sighed. "Dean, how could I help you if I couldn't even get near you?" The blonde shook his head slightly. "Because stealing me from a hospital room was so much better. You said you liked hurting me, that that's who you are, that it's all you. Now you're saying that you had no choice," he mumbled.

"Dean, I was delirious, and distressed, and terrified for you," Sam's voice was a cool mix of soothing and condescension, and Bobby could only pray that Dean would notice it. "No. _You_ tortured me. _You_ did this to me." Sam snorted. "You act like loving you is a crime. Isn't that what you always wanted?" "No," the blonde whimpered. "Not from you, never like that." It was Sam's turn to shake his head.

"Dean, why are you blowing things out of proportion? Just tell them you don't want to press charges so we can get out of here. You know I don't deserve to be here. We can talk about it all you want when we get home." There was a brief silence. "You hurt me. You would have killed me," Dean's voice was so soft that they all almost missed his words.

"Are you serious? You're the one who shot me three times, Dean!" Sam snapped. The blonde raised his eyes further to finally meet Sam's hazel. "You broke me. You tortured me. You tried to strangle me. You…raped…me." The accusations hung in the suddenly heavy air. Bobby gagged on the other side of the window; hearing Dean say it all out loud made it even more real than it already was.

"And you shot me! You made me do that! Some brother you are, Dean!" Sam's anger was starting to spark in the little room. Dean's breaths were becoming more rapid and strained. _I have to get out of here. I need to get away from him_. He raised a trembling hand and touched his left cheek, the signal Bobby and Dr. Osborne had been waiting for.

"You are not my brother. I'm only sorry that I didn't kill you. Goodbye, Sam" he whispered, green eyes still locked with hazel. Bobby came through the door, a tall police officer right behind him. The officer scooped Dean up from the chair and carried him from the room, Bobby following him closely, not even sparing a glance at Sam. As the metal door closed behind them and Dean was lowered to the wheelchair, Sam's furious screams began to filter out. They were muffled, but there was no mistaking the rage and unspoken promises of more pain as he screamed for his brother. Bobby dropped to his knees and pulled Dean towards him as the blonde finally broke down, sobbing into Bobby's shoulder. His message was clear to all present: Sam Winchester was no longer a part of Dean's life.

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Three weeks had passed since the miserable visit to the prison. Bobby could still hear Sam's angry screams in his dreams, and he was certain Dean could as well. The blonde had immediately reverted back to silence, only crying in his sleep or when he thought Bobby wasn't paying attention. He began to struggle with physical therapy and often refused to go to counseling sessions. Dr. Osborne had taken to coming out to the house to see him; and although Dean preferred to ignore her, he did keep writing in his journal, even if he declined to share it with anyone.

After the conclusion of another fruitless session, Dr. Osborne sat at the table with Bobby. He felt that treating her to pie and tea was the least he could do to compensate for her trips and Dean's reluctance to participate in the therapy. "How has he really been?" she asked softly. Bobby ran a hand through his graying hair with a sigh. "Won't talk, hardly eats, barely sleeps, only wants to sleep. I don't know what else to do," he admitted, frustration evident in his voice.

"This is a classic trauma response," she said. "All you have to do is be there for him, and understand why he's reacting the way that he is." "How the hell am I supposed to do that when he won't even trust me enough to let me in?" he asked, an edge of anger to his tone. She patted his hand. "First thing you need to understand is that no matter what the trauma, the person usually feels responsible for the trauma to begin with." Bobby snorted. "Dean does that without a major trauma". "Exactly. He just terminated his relationship with his brother three weeks ago and now he's doubting himself." Bobby sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Again, nothing new with Dean."

It was now the redheaded doctor's turn to sigh. "No matter what, Dean needs to know that you are okay with his choices. That you understand the depression and the anxiety, the nightmares, his fear and panic. He feels like the only control he has is over his body." The older man studied the tabletop as he thought. Could that really be why Dean didn't want to eat or do physical therapy? Did he really feel that his control had been taken away? He felt tears building when he realized that Dean had always felt out of control and now Sam had finished taking away whatever he had left. He struggled to speak around the lump in his throat. "How can I help him to get it back?" "Give him choices, Mr. Singer. Ask him if he wants to eat apples or carrots. Ask him if he wants to go outside or watch TV. Ask him if he wants to talk or write notes. Give him back the power that you can," she offered. Bobby wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. "I can do that."

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Another two months had flown by without Bobby realizing it. Dean hadn't begun to talk, but he had adapted to Bobby's new habit of giving him constant choices. The boy began to eat more and although he continued to struggle with his physical therapy, he did not give up. Dean had made no attempt to get back into hunting, seemingly happy with puttering around in the junk yard or working in the garage. Movement became easier for him, and he seemed to enjoy getting out and about. He went to counseling sessions as Bobby asked, however, he remained silent.

Dr. Bourke had delivered the good news that his throat had healed from the massive damage and traumas, but Dean seemed to have forgotten he had a voice. Or was simply being stubborn, was Bobby's thought. Things continued to progress in a steady pattern, more time moving by, with Dean growing stronger and Bobby being there to support him. They had never heard from Sam again; Jodi assured Bobby that he was far from Dean.

He was a little surprised the morning Dean came downstairs for breakfast with his journal. Bobby raised an eyebrow at the book. "It's been four months today since I lost my brother," he said softly. The older man didn't quite know how to react to the words, or the fact that they'd been said. Dean's smile was small. "Dr. Osborne spent all this time talking about grieving and I guess it must be done because I feel okay now. I'm not alone; you've been with me this whole time. And I think I might be ready to let it go and move on." Bobby rose from the table, needing just to move, before returning with a mug of coffee and plate of toast for Dean. "You may be right, son. And whatever you choose, I want you to know that I'll be right there with you," he spoke softly. Dean's smile brightened as his green eyes locked with blue. "I know that, Bobby. And thanks."

**The End. Please leave a review! :)**


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